Russian Roulette

There is some uncertainty surrounding the creation of this game of chance. Those of us who are parents know better! Though it had humble beginnings, which did not originally include a revolver, the identifying characteristics of the legendary game were present, I am convinced, as soon as the first toddler was able to reach both stick/toy/critter and mama's or daddy's shoe.

It is terribly obvious that this is the way the game began. How else could a single cultural penchant for risk-taking pass from generation to generation vibrant and intact? Because hardwired into every 13 month old is the secret passion of hiding their most prized possession in their parent's unsuspecting shoe. And so thousands of years later we still play Russian Roulette, often times unwittingly.

Case in point:

I am running out the door to make a dash for SaveMart before dinner demands I mix chalk with water to simulate milk. I grab my Uggs, silently blessing the invention of sheepskin boots for their comfort and convenience in inclement weather, when suddenly my toe strikes either gold or Josiah's Little People figurine. Since my boot is not the foothills of the Sierra Nevadas I am fairly certain I am not seconds away from independent wealth. No, after my heartbeat returns to normal I pull out "Sarah Lynn" who did not, of her own plastic volition, crawl into my boot and tuck herself into the very toe of my shoe. I have played Russian Roulette, and lost. Perhaps next time I will win. Then again...